


delicate and fragile you always were

by idekman



Series: one more for forgiveness [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, AU where nobody dies, F/M, Fix It Fic, Fluff, Multi, possible feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idekman/pseuds/idekman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They should have had everything so he gives it to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	delicate and fragile you always were

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired entirely by susanpevensie on tumblr who was, in turn, inspired by a video I made.  
> Title taken from 'we're all in this together' by gabby young & other animals

The night was oddly crisp, a chill in the air despite the heat wave they've been suffering through for weeks.

He'd asked her with a dry mouth and a sheen of sweat across his forehead, and she'd blown hair out of her eyes and grinned out a _yes_.

 _Yes, of course_ , she'd said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Prom was a loud, noisy blur, filled with lost, distant snapshots. Erica, pouring a generous serving of vodka and a hint of wolfsbane into the punch, laughing at the drunk freshman and letting Boyd spin her until she was giddy. Scott and Kira, taking pictures, showing everyone the way they shine under the camera's lens. Stiles, shadowed constantly by Derek, who finally allowed himself to relax and whisper out a smile when Stiles had run a hand down the small of his back and asked him to dance. Lydia, curved round a long-distant Jackson, who'd returned to take her to one last dance before they all scattered off to college; her red hair had glistened under the lights and she'd smiled and smiled like Isaac had never seen before.

And Allison, dressed in white, pretty against her dark hair, running fingers along the line of his shoulder when she'd found him outside, looking to escape the pitch of noise and wild, grinning faces. He'd returned to the bleachers overlooking the lacrosse field, feeling the stars staring down at him as her eyes had smiled at him, her words a quiet undercurrent to the music they could still hear pouring out of the gym.

 _Dance with me?_ she'd asked him. And how could he say no, when she was staring up at him at him like that, eyes black with night, pupil's huge? She'd been warm under the hands draped around her waist, twisted up in him as they'd slow-danced to the distant music, ignoring the beat there and making their own rhythms. She'd spoken smiles against his neck and kissed along his jawbone until he'd stolen her lips, sighing when her fingers curled up into the hair at the nape of his neck.

 _You're beautiful_ , he'd murmured against her ear, watched the way her skin flushed and her eyes rolled as she'd huffed out a reluctant laugh and teasingly called him pretty.  
They'd traipsed back to Derek's car, his jacket slung over her shoulders, tie lost somewhere to the field, answering Erica's drunken cackles and Stiles' giggles in kind. They'd all crowded into Derek's car, a few lost to the temptation of Jackson's Porsche, bodies slung against laps, and he'd tucked his arms around Allison's waist and grinned against her shoulder blade as she bickered noisily with Derek about the radio station.

 

Graduation was a quieter affair. Isaac had skulked in the background with Erica, who'd tried to smoke a cigarette moments before hurrying up onto the stage to receive her diploma. Lydia's speech rang in his ears as he'd waited, screwing his eyes up against the glare of the sun and spotting Derek, Mrs. McCall, the Sheriff, Mr.. Argent - who couldn't stop grinning, trying to hide the smile behind coughs. He realised, quickly, that they were all sat together - the pack parents, even Erica's stern mother, Boyd's sprawling family, Kira's beaming mom and dad. Something pressed, tight against his chest, as he looked for the seat where his brother should be, mind drifting back to a similar, dry day, wriggling in a hard, plastic lawn chair, watching his own brother throw his cap into the air.

 _Even though we'll all be apart physically, we'll still be together,_ Lydia had told them, eyes searching out her rag-tag group, resting on each of them as she handed her secret message to the crowd. _Pack is family_ , Lydia - wise, endlessly clever Lydia - had told him once, and Allison had curled her fingers up in his and squeezed, too tight, as Lydia finished her speech.

He'd shuffled across the stage, rolling his eyes as Erica screamed out a cheer among the polite smatter of rolling applause, flushing bright red when he stumbled at the last minute and nearly fell down the steps. It was all worth it, though, when Allison had politely taken her diploma - and, spotting him waiting, leaped down the steps and straight into his arms. Isaac let a huff of surprise, her warmth aching at his chest as she'd laughed right back at him, screeching in his arms when he'd spun her in his arms. A dry breezed twisted through their ears and he kissed her laughter away, leaving her breathless and grinning, not letting him go even when he released her to the floor. There had been a weighty pause, when a few startled faces in the crowd - Chris Argent among them, Stiles snorting behind his hand as he wrapped an arm around Derek's waist - but she cupped his face in her hands, traced a thumb along his cheekbone, and kissed him until his head was empty and all he could think was _Allison Allison Allison_ , beating against his rib cage like a drum.

 

The moon was huge and heavy in the sky. He could feel it calling to him, but he'd learned control, finally, and his anchor was sat right next to him, bathed in milky light, and she was a far greater temptation than any promises the moon could make.

He said it before he could think. It was the rosiness of her lips, the dimple in her cheek, the pale column of her throat as she traced star constellations in an inky sky, her thumb tracing over his wrist - how could he resist it, any of it? So he'd breathed it out, almost hoping she wouldn't hear, heart in his stomach when he felt her stiffen beside him.  
She had glanced up, spotted the fear in his face, the way he dipped his head and looked away. Shifting on the hood of her car until they were level, she'd taken his chin in her hand and kissed him, long and deep, so tender it ached. _I love you too, you idiot_ , she'd finally whispered, forehead rested against his own, waiting until he gave in and passed over a tell-tale smile that she peppered with kisses.

 

The car drives were long and made them both irritable, the two of them erupting into bickering after five minutes of the other arriving. They'd make up just as quickly, falling into bed together, Isaac trying to push down his wonder as he stared down at her, hair dark against the sheets, bewildered at how she is his, and he is hers. Wonder at how he'd managed it all, the scrawny kid with scars littering his back and long-gone bruises that he can still see on his chest when he looks in the mirror.

Second year she shared an apartment with Lydia, who he looked forward to seeing almost as much as he did Allison. He'd visit and make her breakfast in bed - simple things. Toast with honey that they drizzled onto the sheets, Allison choking out a laugh around her coffee - bitter and black, his slick with cream and sugar - when he'd spill crumbs and splashes of orange juice, the two of them eating as if someone was going to take the food away. They'd kiss the sticky, sweet traces from the other's skin and he'd surprise her with flowers on her birthday, arriving unannounced at her door. She'd driven down on his, taking him out to dinner and a movie, he teasing her mercilessly at how she was courting him. She'd insisted on some old black and white flick in French that he'd pretended to hate but had loved, loved with everything he had because it was _her_ language flowing over and through him and _her_ face he got to watch as she laughed at jokes he didn't quite understand.

 

Scott and Kira's wedding had surprised no one. It was a small affair, out on a stretch of California beach with Kira, gorgeous draped in white, their shoes all sinking into the sand until Lydia made the first move and kicked hers off halfway through the ceremony, earning a nervous giggle from Scott halfway through his vows.

They'd danced together, both bare foot, the sand cooling between their toes as they reminisced over prom, how Allison's hair had lightened since then and how Isaac had sprouted another few inches, she having to stretch up onto her toes to kiss him. The beach had smelled of bonfire and dry, hot summer heat and he'd pressed his face into Allison's shoulder during a slow song, inhaled her perfume and the soap she used, lavender and mint and wood smoke all at once. He'd asked her to move in with him that night, her shoes slung over his feet, and she'd grinned and told him - their _okay_ , their _always_ , their _I love you_ ; _of course_. Something had lifted in his heart and he'd swung her up into his arms, listening to her screech, the low rumble of their friends' laughter playing against it as he'd ran with her down the beach, wading into the water and threatening to drop her until she'd screamed and thrown herself in anyway.

 

It was always going to be some huge, spacious thing.

They found an apartment with wide open rooms, the kitchen leading into the sitting room, a breakfast bar tucked cozily between it all. Their bedroom had windows that looked out onto the city - and he wasn't sure when all their friends had made the unconscious decision to follow each other to New York, away from Beacon Hills and the darkness there, but he was glad. The two of them still had nightmares, but it was easier when they woke up and there was a living, breathing person next to them willing to kiss them back to sleep. It was almost simple, when he woke up without a scream and turned to see Allison curled around a pillow, when he could look up and see daubs of paint on the wall. He wanted blue, she cream, and they'd argue for hours and hours about it, bickering back and forth until it was almost a joke, and Scott came round and suggested green and that settled it.

The apartment was empty for so long, filled up piece by piece, none of it matching, the two of them eating their breakfast cereal on the sofa until they'd finally found some chairs. Everything they brought in, picked up from antique shops or given up by friends, was well-worn, well-loved, and their jumbled, jigsaw puzzle of a flat felt more and more like them the fuller it got.

And then they stupidly volunteered to host a Halloween party for the pack - because Derek's new to the city, the last to follow, and Allison decides firmly that she's going to make him feel at home. He and Stiles were the first to arrive, a little early, walking in on Isaac and Allison still carving pumpkins. Isaac knew they were there, could feel their heartbeats by the doorway, but he let them watch Allison flick pumpkin seeds at him and giggle before he turned, pretending to notice their presence for the first time.

 

They'd stayed in New York for Christmas where most of the pack had gone back to Beacon Hills. He'd felt the tug of it, them all far off, and he could sense Allison's unhappiness like a smell, the way she missed her father and the quake of her voice when she rang him. So they'd curled up in each other, he constantly touching a hand to her hip, she taking any excuse to run her fingers through his curls. They'd spent hours shopping, Allison re-wrapping Lydia's present three times before she'd sent it off.

Isaac brought Allison a locket. She gave him his present on Christmas Eve, when he was almost asleep, his mind thick with it. His breathing evened out but he could feel Allison, still awake, tracing her fingers along the curve of his shoulder blade.

She'd whispered it into the skin of his back, her breath curling down his spine. _Isaac Lahey, will you marry me?_ As easy as that - because he was asleep, or he was supposed to be. He was choked with the stars he could see through the window lining a wall of their room, choked with the sound of her voice, soft and husky and barely there as he'd turned over and told her _of course_.

Easy as that. The way she'd smiled at him, ducked her face into his collar bone and laughed and laughed - that was when he realised how simple it all really was with them. There was the way they bickered, how stubborn they were - painfully so, neither backing down. How both of them refused to do the drying up and would scream at each other over it, all their fears and angers billowing out over the tea towel. But really - that was all surface, because they loved each other, and that made everything easier, somehow.

 

They would run in the mornings, Isaac always reluctant to be dragged out of bed before the sun was really up, Allison wheedling at him to get up. She'd make promises and give him kisses and teasing touches until finally he would force himself up, stumble down the road as she would - literally, sometimes - run circles round him, living and breathing and loving in the quietness of the road. He could see, really, why she loved it; they had the world to themselves, their little slice of New York, for half an hour or so, watching the traffic and the amber glow of the sky as the sun began to rise. On work days they would share a shower and he would make good on those teasing touches - but on weekends it was lazier. They'd pick up a paper on the way home, Allison chattering away endlessly with the shopkeeper they'd come to know by name - about the engagement ring on her finger, the simple gold wedding band, the barest bump in her stomach after she'd missed her period and they'd realised. 

On weekends, they'd settle back into bed, their apartment always freezing because they'd leave an errant window open, forgetting about it until they returned. Allison would dig her toes, like blocks of ice, against his hot skin, and he'd scowl when she took all the blankets until finally, huffing out a sigh, she'd wrap him up in the duvet and drift back to sleep with him, curled in on each other. She would always wake first then, leaving him to go make her terrible coffee and tempt him out of bed with fried bacon and croissants from the bakery over the street.

He'd watch her, the way she barely looked a day older than when she'd graduated, a hand running over the soft swell of her stomach. She'd always sing whilst she cooked, humming tunelessly, unaware of him watching from the doorway for a while before she'd finally turn, make him dance with her to whatever was crackling out of the radio, and she'd ask _do you love me?_ and he'd reply _of course_ like it was the easiest thing in the world, and -

 

And he wakes with a gasp, his bed cold and empty.

And he remembers. The punch-gut horror in her eyes, the blood pooling around her stomach and on staining the pale skin of her hands. The way her face had looked as the life had bled away.

He listens to Scott. He's crying in the next room. Mrs. McCall is shuffling round downstairs, cooking at three o clock in the morning.

And he's alone. He remembers it now. The images are already fading from his dream and he scrabbles for them, tries to drag back the smile on her face at their wedding, the dimple on her cheek that he never got to kiss but always, always wanted to.

He's alone, and she's gone. Chris Argent isn't grinning proudly at her graduation, Lydia isn't bustling around a flat with her and complaining about her course load, Scott isn't writing her long letters about Kira and how he wants to have four children, Stiles isn't badgering her to play Call of Duty with him. She's gone. She's gone she's gone _she's gone_ -

He wants to howl but he screams instead, long and loud and cracked, empty in the night as the tears burn down his face and Derek howls in response, somewhere far away and distant.

He tries to chase the warmth of her hands one last time as the dream bleeds out but he's cold now and his bed is empty.

 

[tumblr post](http://coolshimmeree.tumblr.com/post/80255242370/tinylahey-sydmarch-isaac-allison-cant)

 

 

 


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